Stronger
by clam theif
Summary: Mello wasn't really as tough as he seemed. Constant bullying in school, but a hero to all the other kids at Wammy's. It's tough, feeling weak. At least there's someone who believes in you a lot. MattxMello fluff. Temp. Oneshot


_**Woo First Death Note fic! Okay, so, I've always had this idea that Mello was actually picked on a lot as a kid, and he was really weak inside, and it's why he was always so tough looking for the most part. He's fine at Wammy's but when it comes to school, he's miserable. Anyways, this is a oneshot for now, if I feel like writing more, I will. 8D**_

The young blonde sighed and shut his text book, staring out the window. It was a gloomy day; the sky was grayed with sadness, dotted by silvery clouds which spewed their tears upon the dry, crusty earth. Class may be over, and to most students his age, the worst part of their day was over. But not for him. His classmates all got to return to a normal home, with parents, brothers and sisters, maybe even a few pets. There were four kids in his class, himself included, who didn't get to go home to a wonderful house with bedrooms, a kitchen, dining room…and a family room. God, one of these kids wasn't even old enough to be in his class…But this is what he dealt with…Seeing how the kid was beyond intelligent for nine years old.

Students all rushed to the back of the classroom where he sat, and began to cram their school books into backpacks with decals of cartoon characters or butterflies. Usually, he always waited to get to his bag, but he just wanted to hurry up and grab his things and get out of there. Yet again, that little nine year old beat the entire class…And even so, the other kids were going home to show their parents their good test grades. He, unlike the others, had no parents to show his test to. Shuffling back to the school bags as slowly as he could, he slid his books and his test into bag…Not a backpack, far from it. It was just a simple, old and raggedy black, canvas bag.

Trying to be as neat and stealthy he could, he tried to slip out unseen. But each time he tried this maneuver, to get to his bag early, he always seemed to fail. Rough hands shoved him from behind, knocking him forcefully into the wall. "What's up _Jell-O_." Came a nasty sneer from behind him, as he turned from his crouched position on the floor. He raised a hand to his mouth, only to find the crash in the wall had caused the boy to cut his lip open with his teeth. He stared at his attacker, a burly, rather pudgy kid, with mousy hair, beady eyes, and premature acne speckling his face.

"What do you want?" he asked, rubbing his lip, trying to get up. His bully grabbed him by the collar of his worn-out, graying, black shirt and shoved him against the wall, his accomplices laughing.

"You're a little freak, you know that?" the bully said, shoving him again into the wall. He felt his head make contact with the rough cinderblocks of the wall. "All of you are. You're all freaks, no wonder none of ya ain't got parents. They all left ya at that stupid orphanage because no one wants you!" The accomplices laughed. The boy had a pained expression on his face as his body continued to be rammed into the wall. "What's the matter, _Jell-O_" he sneered again, amused at the pain he was causing the kid. Even more tightly now, the bully's grasp became. And viciously, the eleven year old slammed a fist into his victim's jaw, knocking him on to the floor.

_If he had parents…things like this would never happen_.

His bully, along with his allies became kicking at his body, laughing at the kid they had attacked, as he sat there in a heap on the floor, arms covering his head, trying to be strong and hold back from crying.

_If he had parents…They'd come and save him_.

"What's the matter _Jell-O_?" they sneered as they kicked and punched at the kid. "Afraid of a little pain?" He tongued at the cut on his lip, wishing he could bite down to drown out the pain.

_If he had parents…He would never have had to meet these guys_.

"What a loser." They said, their attacks ceasing as a loud bell alerting the official end of the school day, and all students in the hallway could head out to their respected buses.

_If he had parents…He could be stronger._

He got up, and zipped up the frayed zipper of the canvas bag he carried. Slowly he reached a hand up to his lip, to find the blood beginning to dry around the pink flesh. He sighed and draped the bag over his shoulder to begin the humiliating walk to the buses.

This was a normal routine for him. At least once a week, a bunch of bullies would come up to him and pick on him. It wasn't the other orphans—the school was full of them. It was him. He took responsibility for them all since he was the oldest in the elementary school. The older students had graduated to the middle school, and some to the high school, where he heard that it was easier. There were more students and no one noticed other people as much.

And it wasn't just this bully. The entire school seemed to have something against the orphans of The Wammy House. He was used to it though. He wished though, that he could stand up to the rest of the school, and declare that the kids of the Wammy House, were the same as the rest of the school, they just didn't have parents. Who knew what happened to them.

But the fact that most of the orphans were incredibly intelligent probably was a problem in the bullying department. Knowledge was intimidating to kids. He had discovered this. He and that _albino_ nine year old, Nate, but he wasn't allowed to say his real name in school, were always competing. Now and then, he'd beat him, but the kid had some odd mind powers, that allowed him to succeed in whatever he did.

A few girls in the halls laughed and pointed at him, with giggles filled with sin as they saw the scrapes and bruises coating his body. He sighed, letting them have their ideas about him, but he continued on. He needed to be strong…Even though he was fighting a losing battle inside against his emotions.

And his tears were winning.

There were two buses going to route towards the Wammy House. When he wasn't covered in bruises, he took the bus with fewer orphans. But when he was beaten and battered like he was today, he boarded the bus that the other orphans chose to take. They saw him as a hero for the most part. He was their savior. He took the pain for them, and he always would.

The door of the canary yellow bus opened wide, revealing the rubbery, and dust covered stairs to the main compartment of the bus. Slowly, the blonde ascended each step, only to see the astonished faces of younger students. He gave a weak smile to the one's up front, only for them to look at him with an expression revealing concern. His bruises were no surprise, but nonetheless, the other kids couldn't help but worry. Usually, there would be a seat open for him, there always was. Most kids kept one open before the bus left in case he showed up and needed to stretch out. Not today.

In his seat, sat a kid, with almost maroon colored hair that hung shaggily into his face, covering a pair of transition's glasses. In his hands sat something he had never seen in the hands of an orphan: A Gameboy Advance SP. This kid couldn't be an orphan. No orphan had enough for one of those. Normally, he would tell the person in his seat to move, but he didn't. The kid seemed too absorbed in his game to want to.

He took a seat next to the freaky kid, and sighed, setting his bag in his lap. His face was red, and his eyes were getting watery. Watery to the point that he had to lean down over his bag and cover his face with his hands. How much longer could he keep this up? He couldn't be this kind of hero to these kids forever. One day, he'd be gone, and these kids would have to go on without him…Who knew what would happen then.

A glance over to the kid with the gameboy. He suddenly recognized him as a kid in his class. He always sat in the back, and when he was either done with a test…or just plain bored, the gameboy would come out, and he'd be clicking away at those buttons just to pass the time.

His face returned to his hands. How could a kid like that be so emotionlessly calm? He had to have taken some of the insults before, which orphan didn't? The kid couldn't be too old; he was in his class after all. There was a slight clack and he noted that the kid had shut the gameboy closed.

"I was going to wait to say something until we got back." He said, his voice rather deep for someone their age. It was calm, and almost depressed sounding. He couldn't blame him much. "But my gameboy died." The bus revved a bit, and started out of the school parking lot.

He looked up a bit at the kid in glasses, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. "And who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Matt." The kid said. "'Course, you should know that's my real name. What kid at Wammy's has the name Matt?" A slight smile appeared on his face as Matt introduced himself. "I saw what they did to you." He said softly, whispering almost.

He felt a few tears drip from his eyes, and began to wipe them away. "I-I'm M-"

"Mello, I know." Matt said. "We're in the same class, idiot." Mello felt a bit of a sting in him as Matt insulted him. "I'm just kidding around with you, jeez." Matt snorted, noticing a few tears drip from Mello's eyes yet again.

"I-I know." Mello sniffed rubbing his eyes with his sleeve once more. "I-I just had it kind of rough today." Matt smiled and dug into the backpack he had on his lap. It was a nice backpack, and it had a Super Mario decal on it.

"Here." Matt said, pulling a few Hershey kisses from the back, and placing them in Mello's hand. "Before my mom died, she used to give me chocolate if I was sad. Maybe it'll make you feel better." Mello smiled at Matt, still attempting to keep himself from crying.

"Th-thanks." Mello said, finding the courage to smile a bit. Slowly, he began to peel the silver foil off the Hershey kiss and plopped it into his mouth. "S-So…you just started here, huh?"

Matt nodded, but a smile remained on his face. "Yeah, I just started at Wammy's a few months ago." The smile still continued to keeps its position. "Mom died back around Christmas, and Dad got arrested 'cause of it." His smile wavered slightly. "Yeah. Dad killed Mom."

Mello froze. "H-How can you be so calm about that?!" he asked from shock, as well as a bump in the road.

Matt smirked. "I'm not." He said, holding up the gameboy. "I started playing games to get my aggression out. I'm pretty angry. At a lot of things." He stared down at his backpack. "I-I, uh…I spend a lot of time outside of school crying, actually."

Mello remained silent as the teardrops of clouds splattered against the window. He found himself, for the most part, almost speechless. "M-Matt. I'm sorry." He said.

The kid grinned and put a playful arm around Mello's shoulder. "Don't worry about it." He said. "We're friends right?"

_Friends…?_

This was perhaps, the first time in his life, Mello had someone refer to him as a friend…Even though he had only known Matt for a few minutes, he was happy to hear this.

"Take my advice, Mello." Matt said, digging into his bag and pulling out a box of candy cigarettes. "Don't let anyone tell you that you're weak, okay?"

A cheery smile appeared on Mello's face as Matt said those words. "So, wait…" he said, playing dumb for a moment.

"That means that I think you're strong, Mello." Matt teased, punching Mello in the arm. "Don't ever think otherwise."

_He didn't need his parents now._

_He had something much more valuable._

_He had someone who believed in him._

_Someone who thought he was strong._

"So Matt…What _is_ your real name?"

"What's yours?"

"Miheal. Mihael Keehl."

"Lucky!"

"Why, what's yours?"  
"…Mail Jeevas."

"HA! Who gives their kid a stupid name like that?!"

"Shut up, _Mihael_."


End file.
